


Under Zenith

by mander3_swish



Series: A Thousand Times [1]
Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, Boys Kissing, Flashbacks, Lost Decade (Roswell New Mexico), M/M, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28064817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mander3_swish/pseuds/mander3_swish
Summary: A Lost Decade AU  - Set in 2014After Alex's second deployment, Michael left Roswell in search of work and UFO sighting leads.He came to Alberta searching for a sign that there are other aliens out there, that he and Iz and Max aren't alone. Or even just some sort of small sign of home, somewhere he belonged. And he found Alex there, where he never thought he might be. If that's not a sign…
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Series: A Thousand Times [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1432756
Comments: 24
Kudos: 42
Collections: Roswell New Mexico Big Bang 2020





	Under Zenith

**Author's Note:**

> Massive thanks to Alex aka primalmusic for the beta read through!  
> And to Molly aka [manesalex](https://manesalex.tumblr.com/) for the [ art work](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/RoswellNewMexicoBigBang/works/28005162)! And being a bit of a cheerleader during this journey! 
> 
> Song title borrowed from Our Lady Peace.  
>  _Maybe they'll come back again  
>  Maybe they're all gone  
> One day you'll find me sending  
> This message strong_

Not too long after Alex left for his second deployment overseas, Michael just had to leave too. He needed to get away from Roswell and all the things that reminded him of Alex. It all hurt too damn much.

He'd heard whispers that Foster's ranch was going to be laying off workers because of the drought and the low calf rate this past spring. So he saw that as the perfect opportunity to leave. Luckily Isobel had seemed as normal as could be for the last few years now, even got herself married, so he figured Max could watch her and make sure she didn't go off the rails again. 

Plus, he had scoured every inch of the desert of the Foster Homestead Ranch looking for pieces of his ship, and he hadn't turned up anything in months.

Since ranching and fixing any and every piece of farm equipment out there was what he knew, he sought job leads that might put him near other rumored areas of major UFO sightings. 

He didn't really want to turn into his own version of Fox Mulder, but his drive to seek out the truth and see if he could find out anything more about where they came from outweighed building any sort of stable life, especially since his heart was overseas in another desert thousands of miles away.

His buddy Dave gave him a job lead up in Alberta that just might work. He might be able to get a work visa, but likely he'd be getting paid under the table. He was just lucky he had a valid passport - thank god for Isobel's insistence on him needing to be at her bachelorette weekend in Cabo last year.

After taking a week to sort out the details, tune up his truck and make sure the Airstream was roadworthy, and then map out a route, he set off pretty much straight north. He decided to stop at least two nights along the way since he didn't want to look like a bedraggled escaped convict once he got to the Canadian border. Plus, he didn't want to push his old truck too much. She'd never been driven so far, for so long. 

The road stretched out endlessly before him. He had the radio blasting whatever AM signal he could pick up, so it was all country or oldies or talk radio. It was a bright, hot, sunny day, so every once in a while those little pockets of mirages would pop up on the road. Michael laughed to himself, finding it immensely funny that he never really recalled seeing mirages like that when he basically lived surrounded by desert. And then he thought of Alex, who for all he knew was in the middle of another one, very far away. It killed him that he never knew the details, not that he was possessive about it, but that there was always that niggling feeling of worry and fear of something happening to Alex and never finding out about it until too late.

It was an easy drive, basically skirting up the edge of the Rocky Mountains, the peaks off to his left, with endless plains off to the right. He loved watching the nuanced changes in the landscape when he reached higher elevations around Denver, and then the undulations of the river valleys and uplands as he crossed Montana. 

The beauty of the Airstream was that he could pretty much stop anywhere he wanted, with the easiest and cheapest (aka free) being of course a Walmart parking lot. If it hadn't been for the shadowed mountains in the distance on his first morning in Fort Collins, Colorado, he'd have sworn he was in the same state the next morning. The Billings Walmart and its surroundings felt like it could have been 'Anywhere, USA.' Maybe on his way back, whenever that might be, he'd have to find some more scenic spots to wake up to. That is if he ended up with a few extra bucks in his pocket to make up for the gas mileage for out-of-the-way places.

Once he crossed into Canada and made it to Medicine Hat, he detoured off to one of the oldest reported UFO sightings he'd been able to find in his limited time to research. In 1967, about 80 miles south-west of Calgary in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains, Warren Smith had been out hiking and prospecting for precious metal ore deposits when he swore he sighted a silver disc-shaped object. 

It seemed that Warren was a bit of a celebrity in Turner Valley, so it wasn't too difficult to track him down at the hotel bar. It was even easier to get him to talk about that night and subsequent events, especially when Michael had offered to pay for a round of beers. 

"So you're saying that the United States Air Force sent investigators to look into your claims of a UFO sighting?" Michael was dumbfounded. He had somehow stumbled upon one of the last sightings that the team at Project Blue Book must have been sent to investigate. 

Michael had been doing his due diligence and worked many hours in the Roswell Library, combing through anything he could find on Project Blue Book incidents. None of them had been considered a threat to national security, so there either weren't altogether that many details on the sightings, or no hard evidence had been found (or disclosed), so it was difficult to draw connections to his own history.

"They sure did," Warren replied. "I drove them out to where I was prospecting, and I'll say, it was a mighty funny sight seeing those two fellas hike into the woods in their fancy uniforms and suits." He chuckled to himself and then took a long gulp of beer. 

"There wasn't anything to see out there, as the saucer didn't crash or nothin'. And I never saw any scorch marks or singed trees. But it did hover over the creek for, I swear, nearly ten minutes before zooming off up into the mountains." Warren recounted his story so much conviction and belief, it was hard not to believe it.

"And this was during the day you said?" Michael asked.

"Sure was. Which apparently was unusual as most sightings, incorrect ones and real ones alike, happen at night. The daytime ones are harder to explain away with made up phenomena."

Michael enjoyed talking to Warren, and hearing his story. He reminded him a little bit of old one-eyed Mr. Sanders back home - a bit crusty, but interesting and kind. But all this talking and history lessons turned out to mostly be a dead lead since there was no site worth checking out.

*******

The funny thing about the new job was its unintentional connection to aliens; that, or it was fate. The ranch was somewhere near the small farming town of St. Paul, Alberta, which had a purpose-built UFO landing pad built in 1967 to welcome any and all extraterrestrials. Michael's research told him it was funded through a Canadian Centennial project, along with local contractors donating some of the materials. There was now a flying saucer-shaped Chamber of Commerce building attached, which just added to the kitschy 60's alien vibe of the whole thing. And coming from a Roswellian, calling something alien kitschy, well… He just hoped the town was still as open and as welcoming, even for secret aliens.

After a few days of settling in on the ranch, he ventured into town, not able to wait any longer before setting eyes on the landing pad. It was both remarkable and hilarious. The main staircase led up to the deck of the pad, which had been emblazoned with the town's centennial logo and featured a little UFO graphic. The structure had one main central support from below, making it look a bit like a cake stand. Then there was a wall showing the map of Canada with the current location of St. Paul highlighted. On top of the wall was a display of flags, which he later found out were the provincial flags. 

He came back, night after night, just to wait. Michael laid back, looking at the stars up above. He wished a million times over he knew where he had come from, someplace to focus his energy on. So he laid there, opening up his mind, letting the psychic walls he'd built up to protect himself from Isobel and Max over the years crack and break open.

On the third night of keeping watch of the sky, he was treated to the most epic light show this side of the Fourth of July: the northern lights in all their glory, despite a bit of light pollution from the closest street lamps, streaked across the sky. He'd seen them in pictures, in time lapses on the computer in the library, and even a few times over the years the northern lights had stretched southward, but there was no comparing the spectacle that was dancing through the sky in that moment. The shimmering quality reminded Michael of the broken pieces of his ship whenever they were touched. 

Laying out on the landing pad every night for a week was all fine and good before the local RCMP came questioning his intentions. 

"We've had some reports of a shifty looking character loitering about. The last thing we want is to see this heritage monument get vandalized," Constable Drake said, eyeing Michael up. 

"Just watching the stars, Constable. Hoping I might get abducted if I'm lucky," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Since he wasn't too obviously drunk, nor had he left any empty beer bottles littered about, they let him off with a warning. Since there wasn't much going on in town, there were eyes everywhere keeping track of anything out of the mundane ordinariness of small town life.

Michael was tempted to come back and see if he could levitate the UFO building off its structure - that certainly would give the neighborhood watch a fright!

*******

Michael felt comfortable on the ranch, welcomed into the rhythms of the daily chores and tasks, and the general camaraderie that is able to develop in such a tight-knit environment. Michael certainly was able to highlight his worth as a new hire when he got the old vintage thresher up and running just in time for some of the harvest demonstrations that local school kids were bussed in for.

He'd been chatting up his co-workers as much as possible to see if anyone had heard or seen anything. His only risk was that people would think he had a weird hobby, or was crazy, not that he was an alien himself. It had been a great way to get to know people without the standard of talking about the weather or bitching about how bad their favorite sports team was doing.

"My cousin Gary's Grandpa on his mom's side, well it's a family story that he saw a UFO back in the late sixties," Kaitlyn shared with Michael over some cold beers in the bunkhouse after a long day of work. "While he refutes the fact that he was on drugs, it's no secret that that wasn't always the case."

"And would this Grandpa have a name, location, and still be alive, by any chance?" Michael asked. He scribbled down the details as she spoke in order to verify it all with the man himself if he got the chance. 

"If I recall, his name was Lawrence Dymond. And it happened back around 1968 or something?" She paused, "But I can text Gary and find out. I know it happened in Alsask, just on the other side of the border into Saskatchewan, in the middle of fucking nowhere if you ask me.

"And I know," she continued as her storytelling became more animated, "as I had to spend the summer there between grade 9 and 10. It was the fucking worst thing to do to a teenager."

Once Michael got the rest of the details from Kaitlyn, he mapped out a route to see if Lawrence had any more details to share about his sighting.

On his way through to Alsask, Michael stopped in Wainwright as he was starving. The Park and Trestle Pub looked as good a place as any he'd seen. He was tucked up at the bar, enjoying a juicy burger and fries, along with a cheap pint of beer when a hand clapped down on his shoulder. Michael glanced down at the hand, something about the fingers seemed all too familiar. His eyes travelled a path up the arm until they were met with deep brown eyes, still as beautiful as ever. 

"Holy shit, Guerin? It really is you?" Alex said, evidently surprised to see Michael there.

"Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine," Michael muttered under his breath when he saw who it was. 

Then Michael asked directly to Alex, "How. How are you even here? Aren't you supposed to be in some undisclosed location, in like, Afghanistan or Iraq or something?" 

"That is a long story if I was at liberty to discuss it with a civilian." Alex cocked his head, smiling at Michael. "But what I can say, I think, is that I'm currently at CFB Wainwright doing some special ops training."

Alex continued, "But really, a better question I have for you is what the hell are you doing in the middle of nowhere Alberta?" 

Of course Michael couldn’t really tell him why he was there either, but he really really wanted to.

Michael had always wondered what Alex's reaction would be if he were to ever tell him all about the alien thing. Would he be disgusted? Would he turn him in to the military? Would he finally say something that would completely break Michael's heart and push him away forever?

"Pull up a stool. I'll tell you about my adventures in ranching in the wilds of Alberta," Michael offered, pointing at the stool next to him. "That is, unless you can't stay?"

Alex looked back over his shoulder to the table of people that were very obviously military inclined. "Um, I should be good to stay for a bit. But I need a small favor?"

"Shoot."

"Well, I got a ride here with Sharon, so if you could give me a ride back to base…" Alex question trailed off. 

"I think I can manage a little detour, if you're willing to stay" 

Alex responded with a little hint of smile, and sat down beside him. He pulled out his phone and sent off a quick text to let Sharon know he didn't need a ride back.

*******

While their parting last time had been really tough and painful, they still managed to actually talk civilly and even reminisced a little about their past. Maybe they could really be friends, Michael thought.

"Hey, remember that time we almost got arrested together?" 

"How could I forget? I was scared shitless that Sheriff Valenti would haul me off to jail and then call my dad to bail me out. I likely would have been safer staying behind bars than have that happen."

"But we sure had fun before that, right? You and me, watching the planes come and go, wishing we were on them…" Michael trailed off, lost in the memory of that night six years ago.

2008:

The Roswell Airport was just a small regional airport with not many flights a day, with most of them coming in the evening from other connecting flights as this was usually the last stop.

Michael steered his truck past several no trespassing signs and through the sketchy fence that was missing way too many sections, and pulled to a stop before pulling a quick U-turn. He hopped out of the cab and went to the back to pull down the tailgate. He whisper-yelled to Alex, "You gonna join me? I have a cold beer with your name on it."

Alex scanned the horizon, trying to see if he spotted any security coming for them, but didn't see anything. When he was sure the coast was clear, he joined Michael on the tailgate.

"What the hell are we doing here Guerin?" Alex asked after a long pull on his beer.

"Thought we could just hang out, watch the planes take off." Michael shrugged, a mischievous glint to the look he gave Alex.

"Just watch the planes, or…?" Their stargazing dates usually devolved into less about seeing stars in the sky and more about seeing stars behind their closed eyes from all the delicious pleasure they drew out of each other's bodies.

"Just drink your beer, Manes." 

They did actually manage to polish off the beers Michael had swiped from the fridge in the Evans' garage, the alcohol making them feel loose and happy. The thunderous whoosh of a few planes taking off right over their heads kept them entertained. It was a thrilling rush to be so close.

Michael tossed his beer bottle, the sound of breaking glass echoing back to the truck. He felt Alex's hand on his arm, and he turned to face him. Alex leaned in and kissed him, not one ounce of hesitation between them. Lips against lips, the intensity of the kisses pulsed and softened as they found their rhythm in the passion and tenderness. The wet slide of Alex's tongue along Michael's lip undid him. Michael laid back further in the truck bed, pulling Alex on top of him, grinding his hips upward and feeling how hard Alex was with only their jeans between them. They were lost in each other as hands and lips further memorized the planes of their bodies and the sound that each touch could elicit. 

After who knew how long, maybe two or three planes taking off since the last time they were upright, Michael noticed a blue light swirling behind his eyes. For a split second he hoped it was a spacecraft: his parents, maybe returning to find their son. But he knew what it was from, the color mixed with red unmistakable from the times various foster parents were visited by the cops. 

Sheriff Valenti and a couple of deputies had rolled up, breaking up their fun. 

When Alex realized what was going on, he rolled off Michael so fast he probably bruised something scrambling out of the back of the truck. He went over to Valenti, trying to make it alright and smooth things over. Michael had had no idea that Alex was so friendly with dickhead Kyle's dad. 

One of the deputies came over to talk to Michael, asking what they were doing, how they got onto the airfield - shit that could get them arrested. And then Deputy Suarez started handcuffing him, apparently not liking his smartass answers - _Well, if the airport hadn't cheaped out on fencing material…_ or … _How else am I gonna get away from the stench of your donut breath than to partake in some jet fuel exhaust inhalations?_

Michael cried out, looking for any kind of sympathy, as Suarez jostled his fucked up hand. But then he and Alex made eye contact, and they knew they at least had to try to make a break for it. They both moved in an attempt to get into the truck, but that didn't work in the slightest as Michael didn't want to even try to use his telekinesis to break free of the cuffs, and Alex hadn't moved quick enough to get out of range of Valenti's reach.

Tossed into the back of the cop car, Michael just closed his eyes, hoping this would all be over soon. Maybe he'd be able to get Isobel to bail him out. 

Alex tried to reason with Valenti, that they were just a couple of kids doing no harm. That didn't seem to work so he just went off and started yelling various nonsense arguments that got him handcuffed too and thrown into the back with Michael.

Michael had been shocked, watching all of that through the window. He hadn't seen Alex like that since Prom. He couldn't believe that Alex would take another risk of standing up for him and trying to protect him. Michael was maybe a little bit more in love with Alex than he had been thirty minutes ago.

"Shit. My dad is so going to kill me now."

"Isn't he out of town?" Michael tried to reason.

"Oh it will get back to him. Fuck." Alex was breathing hard.

Michael tried to distract him, asking him random questions about if they went to jail, what would be the first prison tattoo he'd get? Or if they could make a break for it and go on the lam, and never come back, who would they be more like: Bonnie and Clyde, or Thelma and Louise? 

"Well neither had a happy ending, I don't think, so neither. Maybe, more like… us… make up our own story." 

And if that wasn’t some cosmic romantic epic fated love, then, well Michael wasn't really from outer space.

It became apparent that they were just being held to calm down and suffer a little bit. Valenti eventually let them go after letting them freak out for half an hour in the back of the car, hoping it would teach them a lesson - and likely not wanting to involve his dear old 'friend' if he could help it.

Alex and Michael had to promise never to trespass like that again, although by the look on Valenti's face, he did not quite believe the Guerin kid.

2014:

"If you could go anywhere in the world, where would you go?" Alex asked after swallowing down the last drops of his beer.

The question caught Michael a bit off-guard, and he sort of stammered through a response that wasn't in the least bit any part of his top 3 choices. "Um, I guess I'd, um, have to say, maybe, Nashville? Check out the Grand Ole Opry." He decided to go with that as any follow-up question wouldn't be related to all the things alien, or his ceaseless pining for Alex. 

"Oh yeah, that would be pretty cool to go back to. My mom actually took me there when I was about 8 or 9, I think?" Alex's brow furrowed as he tried to recall the memory. "Sarge must have been deployed or something, and my brothers were all at sleep-away camp, so Mom loaded me up in her shitty little car and we went on a last-minute road trip."

Alex shook his head, shaking out of the memory. "So why the Opry?" he asked. "I never pegged you as a classic country type."

"I dunno, it just seemed like the sort of place that anyone could find their dreams come to life, no matter where they started from," Michael replied, his reasoning sound, but not something he would have followed through on.

"Okay, my turn for a question," Michael said, lips quirked in a smirk. He leaned in a bit closer to Alex, just close enough to catch the lingering scent of his cologne. "List the top 3 celebrities that would be on your 'free pass' list, should the need ever arise."

Alex gave him the most surprised and confused look, but the wheels were turning. "What a weird question," he replied, taking a sip of his beer while he thought of something good. "Do I really have to answer? I'm so behind in anything pop culture or current music or movies. I hate how the Air Force basically cuts us off from the rest of the world." 

"You don't have to, but I remember what you told me before. Just wanted to see if it had changed." 

"Maybe it has, maybe it hasn't, but I'd rather not discuss fucking celebrities when there's a much better option right in front of me," Alex said, a slow smile crept across his face as he eyed Michael up and down.

"Wanna go for a ride then?" Michael asked, done with this beer, done with food, but definitely not done with Alex. 

Once their glasses were drained and their plates were empty, Alex agreed to meet him by his truck in 10 minutes. All that reminiscing led to them driving out into the dark night, down some dark and quiet grid road. They had only driven a few miles out of town and it was already just pitch black beyond the headlights. Michael pulled the truck off onto an approach into a farmer's field, so they'd be out of the way in case anyone happened along the road as well.

They both got out of the cab and hopped over the side of the truck, using the tires to step up. They were familiar, practiced actions of having these brief moments of time together over the years. Michael spread out a couple of blankets he always had tucked in the back, and they sat down, side by side against the rear of the cab. 

Gazing up at the stars for a few minutes, lost in his thoughts, Michael was still a little bit in shock at crossing paths with Alex, here in Alberta of all places. It became weirder the more he thought about it. Like somehow fate wanted them to be together. What if his pod had spit him out ten years earlier? Or what if their spaceship had landed without crashing in 1947? He could be in his seventies already and not here sitting cuddled up next to Alex. 

"So," Michael began, "am I still a better option than Brendon Urie or Chris Carrabba?" 

"Shut up Guerin," Alex smiled, and pulled Michael in for a kiss, his hand easily finding its way to the long curls at the nape of Michael's neck.

The kiss deepened then, Alex pulling Michael’s face towards him, licking into his mouth, sliding his tongue against the wet heat of Michael. After a few moments, Alex pulled away and moved onto Michael's lap. Michael loved the angle and the heat in Alex's gaze. He cupped Alex's face, pulling him in for another messy, wet kiss. It was all tongues and the occasional nip at Alex's bottom lip. He worked his mouth down the side of Alex's neck, tasting the lingering saltiness left behind after his long day.

The air started to turn colder as they groped at clothes, fingers seeking warmth against hot skin.

"Shit that's cold!" Michael yelped once Alex's fingers found their way up under Michael's shirt.

"Sorry, sorry," Alex muttered against his lips.

"Hey let's get in the truck, try and warm up a little bit more? Then I can drive you back to base like I promised." Michael unwound himself from Alex's embrace, and stood up in the back of the truck, hand out to help Alex up. They climbed out over opposite sides of the truck, Michael grabbing the blankets before getting into the cab. He turned the key over and the engine roared to life. 

Alex held his hands against the vents, soaking in as much heat as he could. But then Michael took Alex's hands in his, bringing them closer and kissing each digit reverently. 

"Better?" he asked.

Alex moaned a little, the gentle press of Michael's lips against his warming skin was incredible. He slipped a finger between Michael's slightly parted lips, the wetness and the heat of his tongue felt incredible. "I need you to get my fingers as wet as possible, then you're going to watch me finger myself open." Alex had to pause, the vibrations of Michael moans around his fingers a momentary distraction. "And finally, I'm going to ride you until you make me come."

Michael let Alex's fingers slip from his mouth with a slurp. "Might just be the best damn idea, literally, ever."

Alex got up onto his knees on the bench seat and turned so his ass was in full view of Michael. He slipped his jeans down, revealing the swell of beautiful soft skin. The sight definitely made Michael's mouth start to water.

Reaching back, Alex teased at his hole, his slick fingertips barely pressing inside before switching to a different finger. Michael just watched in awe, trying to savor the moment and memorize it for future lonely nights. Their last time together was so long ago, so rushed, but these unexpected moments together were like an oasis in the desert.

Without much more thought, Michael moved forward, his hands coming to grip Alex's hip while he dipped lower to trail kisses down the curve of Alex's ass until his tongue joined with fingers. He licked and kissed, pressing as much spit as he could into Alex's hole to get him open and ready. 

After what seemed like hours of being lost in his taste and the tiniest of whimpers escaping from his mouth, Alex pulled a condom and a packet of lube from his coat pocket, and passed them to Michael. "Likely not what the Sarge had in mind with all his pseudo-hyper-militaristic training and preparedness indoctrination."

"I bet," replied Michael. He wasted no time rolling the condom onto his hard, leaking cock. He slicked it up with the lube, and then pressed a finger inside of Alex's hole prepping him even more.

"You ready?" he asked with a whisper.

Alex shimmed out of his jeans the rest of the way. Michael slid over on the seat so they wouldn't have to contend with the steering wheel. Alex straddled his thighs, hovering above him before lining up Michael and sliding down, down, down. He paused with Michael fully inside of him, just breathing, his eyes shut tight. 

They rocked and moved together, hips pressing upward, and fingers digging into skin just to hold on. They were lost in each other, savoring this stolen moment. No matter how many times Michael and Alex had fucked over the years, every single time Michael felt like he was being simultaneously ripped apart and put back together again, the emotions and feelings and sensations overwhelming him, but making him feel whole at the same time.

"That feel good?" Michael asked, his hand coming to stroke Alex's cock, up and down and over the head. The leaking precum was ample to make everything just slick enough and feeling perfect.

"Fuck yes. Keep doing that," Alex said, urging Michael on. 

Alex writhed in pleasure every time Michael pushed in and his cock brushed over Alex’s prostate. His skin glistened with sweat even though there was barely any light around outside to see, as if the stars and moon had disappeared. Michael looked out the windows of the truck, but actually could barely see out. They had steamed up the windows and it appeared there was a smattering of rain drops on the glass.

"Look, it started to rain," Michael managed to grunt out between thrusts.

"I've been expecting it to all night. It always smells like rain when you're around." Alex's hand joined the one Michael had stroking his cock. "Don't stop." 

Michael trailed kisses across Alex's chest, over his left collar bone, and across his stubbled jaw. He met Alex's lips and the soft pressure of their tongues spurred him on and he picked up the pace, his thrusting hips slapping up against the skin of Alex's ass. 

Soon enough, Alex came all over their joined hands, Michael working him through his orgasm. The tight undulating pressure on his own cock quickly finished Michael off too. He came with a groan, his face pressing into the curve of Alex's neck. 

"I wish I didn't have to take you back," Michael whispered into his skin, out into the darkness.

*******

Epilogue

Michael stayed on at the ranch another few months, until after most of the calves were born in the late winter. It was good money that he couldn't really pass up, even to go back to Roswell over Christmas. Sadly, he didn't really have much to go home to. 

On the long drive back to Roswell he had a lot of time to think. He had hoped to find something, anything that might give direction into finding other aliens or maybe some undocumented crash site, but his time in tiny historical museums in dying towns came up empty. Michael had come to Alberta searching for a sign that he and Isobel and Max weren't alone in this forsaken corner of the galaxy. Or maybe there'd be a sign of home, somewhere he thought he belonged. And instead, he had found Alex there, where he never thought he might be. If that wasn’t a sign…

But daring to hope was dangerous for Michael. It always seemed to leave him broken-hearted in the end.

**Author's Note:**

> 'Warning' for handy-wavey knowledge of Canadian-US cross border work Visas and allowable visit durations and if Michael's arrest record would affect anything with his crossing into the country - I'm assuming he only has arrests and no convictions, so this might be okay. I also know zilch about the Roswell airport, so I'm just making it up to suit something they did in 2008.
> 
> All characterizations that may be based on real people or events are purely fictionalized.
> 
> Lastly, while yes, this is a 'short' work for a big bang, I would never have signed up if the minimum word count had been above 5000. It was fun challenging myself to write something longer than I normally do and try to fit it all into a mostly cohesive narrative :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come say hi on [tumblr](https://mander3-swish.tumblr.com/)!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Under Zenith](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28005162) by [manesalex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/manesalex/pseuds/manesalex)




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